[quote=@vietmyke] The machine I was planning on running with my character is a 'Sparrowhawk', essentially an uparmored Sparrow set into a medium frame, trading mobility for some durability, so I'm sure we can work something out in the opposite direction! A lot of these labels in the suit Builder are just labels, not all suits are built equally. For example the Sentry and Sentinel, both are medium suits, but the Sentinel's tech data seems to imply it is just better than the original sentry in terms of mobility and armor and that is okay. Its a newer machine, and more expensive to produce, its natural that it'd be better than the Sentry in most aspects. The goal is to keep things flexible enough for players to fulfill their respective power fantasies when it comes to mechs, without going overboard or making them all-powerful [/quote] Sounds great, I really just want to channel all I've managed to read up on in terms of fighter combat (with a MAS twist). [hr] I'll toss in my very [i]WIP[/i] very Zen test pilot, turned combat pilot up here as well. [Hider=Pilot Profile: Alcántara, Clara] [center][i]"If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough." - Mario Andretti[/i][/center] [b]Appearance:[/b] [COLOR=#99ccff] Clara measures in at a modest 5 ft 4 in when standing on the very tips of her toes. However, her small size has noticeable advantages in terms of her comfort in the cockpit and ability to tolerate increased g-loads. She keeps her chestnut colored hair cut short and rarely does much to maintain it. Her calm eyes are sea-green and mirror the gentle expressions that frequently dance across her mouth. She possess a pallor that is the composite of her parents and she has light brown skin. [/color] [B]Name: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff]Alcántara, Clara[/COLOR] [B]Age: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff]23[/COLOR] [B]Callsign: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff]Zoom[/COLOR] [B]Kills: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff]5[/COLOR] [B]Psychological Analysis: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff] Steeped in more books and technical manuals than any one person should be, Clara Alcántara is a test pilot locked in an endless battle with gravity and the limits of human physiology. Pairing a natural technical aptitude with an intuitive ability to pilot Mobile Armor Suits, Alcántara possesses many of the traits required to excel as a test pilot. Calm and steady even under fire, Alcántara is able to think clearly and problem solve complex issues even when these issues occur in the middle of combat. With deft movements of her controls, Clara flies through the midnight of space effortlessly, an interstellar feather gently drifting in the star strewn winds, and stoically accepts her place as a test pilot constantly fighting for more speed in a universe ensnared by gravity. The bane of any sane mechanic, Alcántara has made it her habit to push her MAS far past the bleeding edge of what could be considered safe or usually survivable. She rarely bring her MAS back in pristine condition and she's known for managing to buckle armor plating with high sustained g-forces more frequently than any manual says should be possible. Embracing the risk of being a test pilot, Alcántara lives her life on the cusp of G-force induced loss of consciousness (g-loc), Alcántara has a knack for making incredible high speed shots and performing maneuvers that threaten her own safety. While she can best be described as an aggressive pilot, Alcántara is not reckless, and she claims to risk only enough to accomplish the objectives of the current mission. Seemingly unburdened by her professional career, Clara has managed to separate her persona as a test and combat pilot from her persona as Ana the person. She is friendly, if a bit reserved, and is amicable in most social situations. Far from a loner, she nonetheless take care to spend time by herself and if left unattended she is likely to bury her face in a book or one of the many convoluted technical manuals she keeps on her personal data pad. [/COLOR] [B]Personal Record: [/B] [hider=Sacrifice] [COLOR=#99ccff] "Steiner and Thompson?" Clara shook her head, "Dead." "You're sure?" Another pointless question, another wasted breath. The briefing room felt wrong. The air felt hot. Her skin was on fire and she felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "I'm sure." "How can you be sure, Lieutenant Alcántara?" Alcántara tried to stare a hole through the scientist's skull. Five minutes, five minutes in, and she already wanted to vent him out of an airlock, "Thompson's reactor went critical. He didn't have time to punch out and even if he had, he would have been caught in the blast wave." "And Steiner?" the Commander added, nodding respectfully. Clara trusted her. She was the real deal. A careerist through and through, but she wasn't bad, not as far as high ranking officers went. "We had to split up. I broke left, away from the colony, he broke right towards the colony. A squad of Gramrs took him out. Souped up models. Veteran pilots. A new variant. I haven't seen a Gramr move like that before, not that fast, not that well. He bought me enough of a head start. I lost them in a derelict field. They couldn't track me with all the radiation." "Unfortunate, very unfortunate, the data those suits carried was invaluable," Zamorano began. Clara listened to the Chief Engineer, burying her anger beneath tired eyes. He didn't know. He didn't understand. He hadn't watched her friends die. He didn't care. All he cared about was telemetry. Steiner had warned her. She'd tried to tell her. "What my esteemed colleague is trying to say," the Commander interrupted, cutting off the scientist with a sharp wave of her hand in his direction. "What we would like to say is that we are sorry, [i]very[/i] sorry to hear about the tragic deaths of Lieutenant Commander Thompson and Lieutenant Steiner. They were good pilots. They were good people. They were our friends and they will be missed." "They knew the risks, they knew what they signed up for, Commander Wright," Clara replied half-heartedly, feeling a sob tugging at back of her throat. Thompson deserved better. Steiner deserved much better. The UEE owed them more than some weak condolences in a briefing room. "What happened out there, Lieutenant?" Wright continued, her voice laced with carefully chosen sympathy. "This was supposed to be the final flight test. Rules of engagements precluded-" "The Coalition happened," Clara replied bitterly. "We were following the projected ingress route when- "You were supposed to avoid engaging enemy forces! You were only supposed to watch them! You were supposed to evade them if they spotted you!" the engineer shouted, his red turning a unflattering shade of red. "We tried. They ran us down. We didn't have any other options and so we fought." "That's not good enough, Alcántara! Not good enough by a long shot. You're supposed to be the best. You're a test pilot, you're supposed to be the very best the UEE has to offer!" Zamorano roared, jabbing his data pad with his finger as if he was stabbing a knife into her heart with each jab. "Chief Engineer Zamorano," the commander attempted. "Please keep your voice down-" The engineer brought his data pad down on the table so hard that Clara was surprised that the screen didn't crack. "Mars Military Institute. Top of your class. 52nd Research and Development Squadron. Three years. Thompson and Steiner were supposed to be just as good! Better even! You were supposed to bring back my prototypes in one piece!" "ZAMORANO! ENOUGH!" Wright ordered, her clinched fist hammering down on the table. "I've heard enough about your [i]precious[/i] prototypes to last me a lifetime. If you can't control yourself, then I will have you escorted to your quarters. Is that understood?" "Yes," Zamorano said with disinterested shrug. Clara could see the sweat pooling at edges of his forehead. He knew better than to play games with the Commander. She didn't make idle threats, and she outranked him. She outranked him by a couple of decades. "What about my MAS?" Clara interjected, hoping to catch the Chief Engineer before he recovered. "My prototype?" Zamorano hissed. "Scrap." Reeling, Alcántara gripped onto armrest of her chair. She knew the mission. She had worked on the project for two years. She knew everything there was to know about the prototype MAS. Everything that mattered and then some. She had loved her MAS. She had loved her MAS like an old friend. And now it was gone. They were gone. All of them. "There wasn't much left of it after you crashed it into the hanger bay," the engineer lectured, with a disgusted frown. Clara could feel the scorn emanating off of him. He was annoyed. He was more than annoyed. He was furious. And it almost made her glad that she had sent the prototype careening into the wall of the hanger at close to 350 kilometers per hour. If only it hadn't been the only one. Clara winced. They'd only ever had three working prototypes. Two years and all they had to show for it was seven wrecked Mobile Armor Suits and twice as many bodies. "And the data? Did we manage to-" "[b]We[/b] managed to recover it! No thanks to you. It took us five hours to dig the black box out of the wreckage and ten more to salvage the data." Clara took a deep breath, loosening her grip on the edge of the chair, a smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. She could die happy. They could take her wings, they could bury the data, but she knew, and they knew. She hadn't let them down. She'd landed a burning prototype MAS at 500 kilometers per hour without so much as a single functioning guidance system and they couldn't take that from her. No matter how hard they tried. No matter what old friends the Chief Engineer called on. "Do you have anything else that you would like to add, Alcántara?" Commander Wright said. "Ma'am, just a question," Clara replied, straightening up in her chair. "Is the project canceled?" "Canceled? No, no by the Heavens no," Wright said with a chuckle and as she turned to Zamorano, it seemed to Clara that even the Chief Engineer was on the verge of smiling. "The data you brought back to us was lovely. The Brass were pleased, real pleased in fact. A twenty-five percent increase in performance is no small thing and for three suits to take out most of a Coalition task force is no small feat." "I'm sorry, what?" Clara managed, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. Her bruises screamed with the effort and she felt suddenly light headed. Commander Wright smiled gently, offering a knowing look, "Congratulations, Lieutenant, flight testing of Project [-Redacted-] has been deemed a complete success. Combat testing is set to begin within two weeks and effective immediately you are transferred to the 7th MAS Squadron, 101st Legion."[/COLOR] [/hider] [B]Equipment: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff] Like any sane military personnel operating in an active war zone, Clara carries [b]a standard issue UEE sidearm[/b] on her person and [b]a well-stocked MAS pilot survival kit[/b] in her MAS. Minimalistic in terms of her possessions, Clara does keep [b]an encrypted data pad[/b] stuffed to the brim with old books and highly classified technical manuals. [/COLOR] [/hider] [hider=MAS Profile: Max Speed] [B]Appearance: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff]a[/COLOR] [B]Designation: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff]P - Prototype[/COLOR] [B]Role: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff]Rapid Response / High Speed Scout[/COLOR] [B]Chassis: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff]Light[/COLOR] [B]Description: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff]a state-of-the-art prototype MAS with a heavy emphasis on high speed and high maneuverability at the cost of pilot and MAS survival[/COLOR] [B]Systems: [/B][COLOR=#99ccff]a[/COLOR] [/hider]